Ambushed
by SteelyThePally
Summary: Sansa Stark is ambushed in the courtyards of Winterfell manor. Possible fluff follows. (Modern AU; Jon x Sansa one-shot. Season 5-6 spoilers.)


**Hello everyone!**

 **This is my first attempt at writing some GoT stuff; on top of that, Jonsa stuff. While some of you may know me for my Overwatch story, or my old Attack on Titan thingies, I recently had this idea as I'm reading the A Song of Ice and Fire books, as well as watching skits of the show on Youtube to compare the differences and all. Anyways, it may not be the best, as I suck with one-shots, but hope you guys can enjoy this (possibly) fluffy story!**

 **...**

Sansa sighed deeply, her feet carrying her hastily through the snow-covered courtyards of Winterfell manor. Being the eldest daughter of one of the world's most powerful families was one _hell_ of a stressful position to be put in, specially when her parents and her older brother were away on a business trip. She offered to go as well, seeing that she had matured considerably and learned a good part of how to be a businesswoman, though that was quickly turned down as the younger Starks would be left under Samwell Tarly's care. Their butler was a capable man, but Eddard and Catelyn knew how… wild the younglings could be.

Given all that, it meant that Sansa would be overseeing the Starks' business for a week, while also assisting Tarly in watching over Arya, Bran, Rickon, and their respective Native American Indian Dogs. She believed she was up for the task, at first, but after Arya's rebelliousness got on her nerves, Bran's climbing earned him a sprained ankle and Rickon rallied all of the house's canine companions (Excluding Lady, of course. Her pet might be as wolfish as its close brethren but Sansa trained her well as to not engage in the barbarian acts that the rest did.) on a campaign of food-stealing and garden-ruining, she and Sam realized they required help.

Immediately.

Help, in this case, came in the shape of Robb's, and consequently all of the Stark family's, closest friend, Jon Targaryen. He was an admirable young man - not to mention handsome, if she were to admit it - just two years older than Sansa, thrust in the position of head of the once-in-shambles Targaryen family early on, and having done a decent job at keeping their business afloat so far. While he and Sansa rarely interacted with one another, he forged a strong friendship with Robb, and as a consequence of that, became a sort of half-brother to the younger Starks. Jon and Samwell were also close, so there was no better choice in her book for reinforcements.

Truth be told, she might just have the slightest of crushes for him, but that wasn't exactly important… or was it?

Much to her relief, Jon's reinforcements were of great assistance, even if he had stayed at Winterfell manor only for a single day now. He brought Ghost, a peculiar snow-white dog of the same breed as the Starks', though equally as loved by the kids, and… Tormund. Now, Sansa had no problems with the man, seeing as he was some sort of adoptive uncle for Jon, yet he often proved to be too… unruly. His appearance alone proved that more than once, and his mannerisms were concerning at times, to say the least.

One way or the other, they were still great help in her Stark children situation.

She sighed tiredly as she walked into yet another of the large mansion's courtyards, the heavy steps of Brienne's gait reminding her that her bodyguard was there. The tall blonde was good company and all, even if a bit overbearing at times, and in some cases, a decent counselor. Her walk went uninterrupted till her foot hit something buried in the snowy floor, almost knocking her off her balance.

Sansa glanced down, her built-up stress quickly turning into anger as she spotted the plastic hilt of one of Rickon's toy swords. As this was Winterfell's largest yard, dotted with low trees, bushes and other garden decorations, it often served as a makeshift playground for the kids and their little adventures.

"Would you like me to collect the toys, milady?" Came Brienne's question suddenly, tone as formal as ever.

"It's okay, Brienne." Sansa replied, exhaling hard as her shoulders slumped forward some. "I'll have Rickon do it… later…"

Her words were lost in her throat as she looked ahead, a peculiar sight taking form. She narrowed her eyes, even leaning forward some, trying to make out whatever unusual thing she had seen… until she felt frozen by shock. Was exhaustion playing tricks on her, or was that Rickon mounted on Shaggydog, barely managing to staying on top of the poor dog as it carried him forward. A toy sword was in his hand, and once he was out on the weak sunlight bathing the courtyard, she could see that his blue eyes held a look of utter defiance, mouth curled up in a grin.

"Winterfell!" He screamed suddenly, voice high-pitched, and he playfully slapped Shaggydog on the rear. It simply quickened its pace, as if wishing to dump its owner as soon as possible, and Rickon's smile somehow enlarged. He started to imitate war drums poorly, sounding more silly than intimidating, and closed in on the two women at a sluggish pace.

"I am Rickon Stark, and I will… destroy you!" The four year-old unleashed a war cry as he swung the plastic sword at Brienne's legs, the impact being too weak to even cause pain. The tall blonde blinked, glancing down, and then to Sansa: The young redhead seemed equally as confused.

Shrugging, Brienne allowed a small smile to form on her lips as she reached down amidst the incessant strikes from the boy. She suddenly stood back up, a more determined look on her face as she locked their swords. "And I, Brienne of Tarth, shall engage in honorable combat against Lord Stark!"

Rickon giggled, breaking character for a moment, and was quick to start clashing swords with Brienne. He then left himself open on purpose, being lightly touched on the stomach by a thrust. The boy feigned pain, finally losing balance from his precarious mount and falling on his side. Shaggydog moved freely, facing his owner to lick his face. "Agh, I am hurt! Help!"

Just as Sansa was trying to wrap her head around what was playing before her eyes, the sound of ruffling leaves and heavy footsteps came to her ears. She glanced around, face blank by her confusion, as Jon and Tormund emerged from the bushes. Even if she was giving in to her irritation moments ago, she couldn't help but to snort at the two: Tormund was holding a cheap plastic axe, an old bucket with crude eye-holes on his helmet, while Jon had a Santa Claus tablecloth wrapped around his neck, serving as some sort of cape, brandishing yet another toy sword. Ghost followed him suit, silently yet idly standing by the Targaryen's side.

"Haha! You are doomed, Brienne!" Rickon laughed, pointing his sword at the woman's stomach as he managed to get Shaggydog off of him. "Jon Targaryen and Tormund will help me!"

Truth be told, help was an exaggeration. Tormund's visibility was impaired by the bucket on his head, and while he tried to reach Brienne, he tripped on his own feet. The large man fell on the snow like a ragdoll, the bucket leaving him as he landed face-first with an audible groan. Jon, on the other hand, proved to be more successful in his charge… until Ghost noticed Shaggydog and ran to play with its friend. Just as he was about to stop, awkwardness growing inside, his white companion robbed him of his balance with a dash.

Sansa could only watch as he was launched forward, his body crashing against hers in a sudden tackle. The next thing she knew, she was staring up at the sky, a weight pressed against her chest, her breaths intensifying. Her joints were tense from how quick it all happened, as well as the brief sensation of weightlessness, her head slowly moving downwards to glance at her 'attacker'.

For a moment, all she saw was his mass of dark curls, though he wasted no time in glancing up himself. The world seemed to freeze around them as his grey eyes met her blue ones, their faces blank for a second. Then Jon's gaze fell, noticing just how _close_ he was from her chest - or perhaps from her person as a whole - and his cheeks were instantly set on fire, painted with a deep hue of crimson. Sansa's cheeks felt warm as well, her blush almost rivaling his own.

Not a second passed and Jon scrambled to his feet, whipping his head in every direction possible. He then glanced back at Sansa, still on the ground, and stretched out a hand. "I, um…" He started, his confidence suddenly having escaped his grasp, heart thumping in his chest. "S-sorry, Lady Stark." She took his hand, noticing how much it trembled, and stood back up. She was nervous herself, though not as much as he was. "I-I didn't mean to, it's my fault. I came up with the idea and all and-"

"N-no, it's alright!" Sansa exclaimed, smiling shyly. Her eyes ran over him, for a moment: He was looking as handsome as ever, having let a shallow yet stylish beard grow, but the tablecloth cape mined her composure and she let out a giggle. Jon froze for a second, but then limited himself to a few awkward chuckles, realizing how silly the situation was. "It's okay, really. Don't sweat it."

"But Lady Stark-"

He was silenced again, though this time by her index finger being raised. "Just Sansa, Jon." They locked gazes for a moment, silence reigning, the two seemingly in trance for what felt like an eternity.

"Hey!" Rickon spoke up, tone laced with indignation, his sword banging against Brienne's leg impatiently. "We are fighting, guys! It's not time for that wedding lovey-dovey mumbo jumbo yet!"

Jon and Sansa had just managed to put out the fires raging in their faces, but Rickon's intervention was more than enough to feed the dying flames, and the two were once again as red as Sansa's locks. They both looked away, Jon now shaking as he felt Tormund's eyes tear holes into the back of his skull, all while Sansa awkwardly exchanged looks with a slightly smug Brienne. They felt as if they were about to explode, but the sounds of more footsteps saved them from that terrible demise.

The sounds belonged to Samwell, who tiredly huffed and puffed as he ran up to them. He stopped, hands on his knees, face rosy from the effort. "I am terribly sorry, Lady Stark." He started, barely managing to speak as he caught his breath. "Rickon has been reading too many knight books, and escaped me before I could stop him." Another pause, this one more graceful as he stood up straight, even if his face was still reddened. "I hope he hasn't caused you any trouble."

"Relax, Sam." She spoke gently, giggling again as she recalled the moment Jon and Tormund exited their hiding spots, so terribly ridiculous that even her father would chuckle at the sight. While this whole setup would normally make her furious for halting her work, she felt… refreshed. As if the stress that weighed her down had been eliminated. A good break from the hectic life she had been leading through this week, without a doubt. Jon's participation and subsequent tackle might have played a major role in her de-stressing, but she swatted the possibility to the back of her mind before it made her soft again. "They were just playing, that's all."

Sam nodded, and glanced at Jon, who was currently trying to recover from the chain of events that he just caused. "Ah, Jon." The chubby man started. "Could you give me a hand at Eddard's office?" Jon's stomach was filled with butterflies as his brain was quick to remind that, since Sansa was headed that way, she was probably going to do some more paperwork at her father's office. The prospect of being around her had made him giddy. "I know it's not really your obligation, but-"

"Sure, Sam, sure." He blurted out, nodding. Jon could feel Tormund's eyebrows rising teasingly at him, though he paid him no mind.

"I will be on my way then." Sansa stated, wiping off whatever snow had remained on her before continuing her march through the courtyard. She heard Brienne following her suit, and glanced back at her towering bodyguard. "No need, Brienne. I'll be fine. Plus, you need a break. Would you mind staying with Rickon?"

The little boy exploded into cheers, little arms hugging the blonde's legs as if to keep her in place. She gave him a small smile, but turned to Sansa with furrowed brows. "Are you sure, milady?"

Sansa nodded, offering Brienne her most convincing smile. Firstly, the bodyguard's frown intensified; then something clicked in her mind with a subtle look at Jon, who was already turning to leave with Sam. The tablecloth was still wrapped around his neck, flowing with a small gust of wind, and she let herself laugh briefly. Sansa simply shook her head, itching to follow after them. "Yes, I'll be okay. Don't worry."

With that, she spun on her heels, hurrying up to join the Samwell and Jon as they left for the main Stark office. Brienne watched, shaking her head as Sansa gently reminded the young man of his makeshift cape, only for him to blush and break into a fit of laughter. They took a turn to the left, and finally disappeared, their joyful sounds reduced to echoes.

Sighing happily, she allowed herself to stand more relaxed now, turning her head to the side. Instead of Rickon, she was greeted with the sight of Tormund, now back on his feet, holding his fake axe against his shoulder as his free hand stroked his snow-sprinkled red beard. He rose an eyebrow, a smug grin appearing on his lips, before letting out a convinced 'heh'. Brienne's own eyebrows were knit together in an instant, and she glanced away, her legs under assault by Rickon's sword as the boy loudly requested for their play to continue.

Oh boy.

This was going to be a long evening.

…

 **Well, that's a wrap, I suppose. What do you guys think? I'm open to all criticism, as this is my first time in the Game of Thrones territory, so I'm not very good at nailing the personalities of the characters. One way or the other, hope you all enjoyed it, and if it wouldn't be much trouble, please do leave a review!**

 **-SteelyThePally**


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